


Dumb ways to die

by TwistedRobots



Category: Original Work
Genre: Accidental Death, Death, Electrocution, Fire, Gore, Graphic Description, Murder, Suicide, Very graphic, warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2018-11-30 20:24:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11471010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwistedRobots/pseuds/TwistedRobots
Summary: ABANDONED - this is just for practice, so I doubt I'll be uploading here much (I'm working on an actual story though (about AntiSepticEye) so make sure to subscribe to be notified when that goes up!)A collection of short stories based on the popular children's song, Dumb Ways to Die. I've had this idea for a while now, and finally decided to make it into reality.If you are faint of heart, please take caution.Also, please excuse the shitty writing.





	1. Set fire to your hair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey i know this first chapter is p bad but i promise the writing gets better as it goes along! I didn't wanna re-write this one cos it's almost like a memoir to how shitty i used to be at writing

Agonisingly panicked screams echoed through the hallways. The stench of burning flesh crawled through the corridors, clinging to the walls and staining them with its acidity. As a crowd of people stirred into action and gathered into the boarding school hallway, a door slammed open, followed shortly by a girl of about 14. She was the source of the screaming, and its cause: her hair was on fire - or, to be more precise, the tiny, charred remains of what was once her hair, was on fire. The crowd of people, all around the same age at best, stood shocked. Motionless at the sight of this poor girl. Everyone knew who had set the fire, so no one was brave enough to help. They merely cleared a path for her to run screeching to the bathroom. And that she did.

However, the room she was in happened to be quite a ways from the nearest bathroom, and she collapsed not halfway down the corridor. Her head was still smothered in fire, and the flames confidently licked up her clothing, not hesitating to engulf that as well. She was still screaming on the floor, her flesh melding with the her clothes at she writhed and thrashed, desperately trying to put out the fire. Scream after scream ripped out of her throat, begging for anyone to help her.

But no one moved. Obviously it was the Giants gang who had done this. They had entered her room, poured gasoline on her, lit a match and left. It was clearly an example in this hellish school, and if anyone tried to help, they would meet the same fate. So, slowly, people started backing away. No one called for help. The fire alarm stayed untouched, the cover permanently down.

Meanwhile the girl had stopped writhing. As she slowed to a stop, the fire carried on, now unhindered by her thrashing. It ate away at her flesh, burning into her arms and legs, her head a charred mess of blood and bone. The water in her body had prevented the fire from continuing on to her brain, but her skull had cracked under the immense heat, exposing her blackened brain for all to see. The fire continued on her arms, legs and torso, raging wildly, dishing out the same treatment her head had gotten. The smell of burnt flesh oozed out from the remains of her body, as her heart finally stopped beating. Her body lay alone in the dank corridor, while the fire began to die down, having burnt away most of the corpse. The blood that soaked the carpet prevented it from spreading.

No one slept that night.


	2. Poke a stick at a Grizzly Bear

So far the camping trip had been great. Y'know, staying up late around a campfire with a beer and some friends, waking up early to the sound of rain pattering on the roof of the tent, and enjoying some peaceful walks through the great forest, trying not to get lost with their shoddy map and equally shoddy compass. And it was on one of those walks, that the group's compass decided to break.

James, the 'leader' of the pack, noticed first.  
"Damn, the bloody compass 'as gone out for real now" he groaned. After hearing no response from his friends, he turned around inquiringly. They all stood stock still in fear, staring straight past James.

James himself was a little unnerved at this display, however he was accustomed to the gang's practical jokes and said rather emphatically:  
"this compass is broken, so we should... turn back..." he trailed off after noticing the panic-stricken faces of team, which seemed a little too real to be a joke. One brave soul shook her head and slowly pointed behind him, flinching at the sound of a low grumble.

A low grumble? James turned around, already knowing what would meet his eyes. 

There before him, reared up on its hind legs, stood a Grizzly bear. A confused one at that. And a confused bear is an dangerous bear. James uttered one word before the bear struck back down with enough force to break a moose's neck.

His chest was immediately ripped open by the bear, blood spattering over the floor. His guts fell like dead weight out of the gaping wound that spanned his whole torso, lumping down onto the ground with a wet squelch. Rivers of blood were being sprayed out by the second - however, as his lungs fell from his nearly destroyed ribcage, the blood slowed down, along with the beating of his now visible heart. Half of his jaw had been torn off by the bear's claws leaving him permanently shocked. His knees finally buckled and his lifeless body collapsed, falling limply over the wet pile of organs.

The Grizzly simply watched this process staring blankly at the corpse fall to the ground.

Behind James, the team stood terrified. Someone started screaming, someone threw up, clutching their sides desperately, others were just sobbing. Finally someone who hadn't fully absorbed all that he had seen, turned tail and ran. Not too long after was he followed by the rest of the group. The bear simply watched, before taking its prize with its jaws and carrying it back to its cave.

It didn't matter that the bear wasn't following them, the group didn't stop running.


	3. Eat medicine that's out of date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one took a very long time - mainly because I forgot this story existed; partly because I've been busy over the six-week holiday; and partly because I had (I still don't) no clue how to write this one...  
> Actual research was required, and I found out that medicine usually just loses its potency as it gets older. Which wouldn't really kill you...  
> So, in order to get around this, I made my own (reasonably logical, yet still dramatic) symptoms, which are all based around real symptoms of various conditions like lung failure. Hopefully my rendition of eating expired medicine isn't too unbelievable.
> 
> It's probably very bad, but I'm still gonna write/post it.
> 
> So here goes.

Jack stumbled into the bathroom, head swirling. He latched onto the nearest counter-top, trying to get a bearing on his surroundings. 

He had been struck down with an awful sickness that had appeared when he woke that morning, forcing him out of bed to grope for some painkillers. However, his splitting headache wasn't really helping things. He would call for his roommate Mark, but he was out early this morning for some interview or something - Jack hadn't really been listening to the latest episode of Mark's late-night-panic-fuelled rambles. So instead, he continued blindly searching through his medicine stash for his saving grace.

Jack fumbled through several bottles of assorted medicines until he finally found what he thought was some ibuprofen. However, it was a bit hard to tell, as the light glaring from above had ruined his chances of even glimpsing the bottle. He resigned to feeling the shape of the bottle. He figured he roughly knew what shape the bottle was supposed to be, right? 

Twisting the cap off, he tipped a tablet into his hand. They felt to be around 200mg each, so he could probably take around 5 or 6 without dying. He tipped a few more tablets into his hands, deciding to go with 6 for maximum effect.

Cupping his hands, he made a makeshift cup and filled his hands with water and two tablets. He drank those two, ano repeated for the rest of them. 

They would take about an hour to set in, so Jack ambled back to his bed in order to try to get some shut eye until then. He lay down on the bed, restless, trying desperately to ignore the pounding pain in his head. It wasn't until after about twenty minutes had gone by of endless writhing and groaning that he finally fell into a fitful sleep.

Jack awoke with a start, violently gripping his chest. A wave of nausea overwhelmed him, compelling him to stumble to his feet. He didn't make it very far before vomiting over his feet. But that was nothing compared to the intense pounding in his chest. It felt like his heart was trying to rip itself from his ribcage. Jack collapsed to the floor, gasping in a breath. He could barely see through the pain, black dots clouding his vision. He tried to suck in another breath, but a burst of pain exploded in his head, rendering him unconscious. 

He awoke moments later from the acute pain in his chest radiating through his body in waves. He barely registered a numbness in his finger and toes, and he was finding it harder and harder to breath. Jack struggled to get up, but found he could barely move. He had to reach his phone that was sat on his bedside table, and call an Mark.

His vision failed him as he pulled himself along the floor, but he was so disoriented from the pain he had no clue as to whether or not he was going in the right direction. With each reaching arm, he wrestled in another breath, each shorter than the last. He winced from the exploding pain in his chest.

The last thing he remembered was the excruciating pain in his head, the choking sensation in his neck and the numbness in his fingers. Jack finally fell limp with a weak splutter.

Mark opened the front door.  
"Jack! Sorry I'm back early, the interview was a lot shorter than I thought it would be" he yelled up the stairs.  
"Also why didn't your answer my texts? I've had to assume you are either dead or have been kidnapped" He joked.  
Silence.  
"Jack? Hellooo?" He sang, confused. His hand rested on the banister, staring up at the door upstairs. He started to make his way upwards.  
"I was joking y'know, about the whole being dead thing, you don't have to prank me" Mark was getting nervous now. As he ascended the stairs he had an increasing feeling of dread settling in his stomach. The lack of response was unusual to the extreme: Jack was usually quite a bubbly person, even when he was ill.

Mark finally reached the door, and his fingers slipped over the door handle tentatively.  
"Jack? Jack, if you don't say anything, I'm coming in"  
There was no response. Mark swallowed, and opened the door.

A body lay stretched out on the ground in a pool of vomit. It was completely lifeless, not even a single breath graced its body. It's face was pale, eyes bloodshot and unseeing. The mop of brown hair that rested on its head was scruffy and unkempt, crusted with vomit. Its mouth hung open, saliva slowly leaking onto the carpet, mixing with the vomit. There was a trace of blood in the mix too, and the stench of bile hung thick in the air. One arm was stretched out towards the bed, the other clutched at its chest.

Mark stood, cold. He finally took in the right before him to recognise his long-time friend, Jack, laying before him. Mark threw a hand over his mouth. He muttered something incomprehensible before fleeing down the stairs.


	4. Use your private parts as piranha bait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wtf even is this chapter 
> 
> I had to turn a silly prompt about private parts into a fucking gore-filled bonanza 
> 
> what,,,

"We should go skinny dipping!"  
Tom and Oliver were currently staying at the backwoods lodge, for a romantic weekend away for two. Their lodge was closest to the huge lake just East of the site. They had already been there for two days, and were currently in the middle of the second night. They had already had their fill of meaningful late-night conversations, and we're getting bored.

Tom smirked at Oliver. He knew Oliver would say no, because it had a few measly signs warning people not to swim. But Oliver was determined not to let Tom have any chance to tease him further. Gathering all the courage he had, he blurted out a resolved "Ok

Tom was momentarily taken aback, but his face soon twisted into a shark-like grin. He picked up Oliver, much to the others distaste, and made his way to the lake.

When they finally reached the lake, Tom put his partner down. Oliver held back.

"What's wrong Oli?" Tom asked. Oliver gestured to the various signs, which all displayed a different variation of "DANGER! DON'T SWIM" on them.  
"I don't think this is such a good idea Tom he whispered.

"Oh, don't be such a pushover, come on!" Tom pulled off his shirt and started to take off his pants-

"Wha t are you doing!!" Oliver screeched. Tom winced, and reminded his boyfriend of the reason they were there anyway. He chuckled and started to run, fully naked, towards the water. He laughed, a genuine happy sound, and screamed at an unnaturally high pitch when he finally reached the water.

Oliver's heart jumped in his chest at the sound, but it was shortly followed by the sound of Tom laughing like a lunatic.  
"Its so cold!" Tom yelled back. Oliver sighed, and started to undress. 

As he started to walk towards the water, he noticed a sign that was partially hidden behind the rest. It seemed to have a crude drawing on it, in the shape of a fish. He wandered over, and pulled off the sign covering the front of the fish. He gasped at the sign. The sign pictured a particularly angry fish, with huge sharp teeth pointing out from its mouth. Above this drawing, it read 'danger!! piranha-infested lake!!'

Oliver stepped back, and immediately loomed over at the lake where his boyfriend was happily splashing about, waiting for Oliver to join him.

"Hey Oli, what's taking so long?!" He yelled back.  
"Get out! Get out now!!"  
"What? Why? It's so nice here!"  
"PIRANHAS!" 

A look of fear crossed Tom's face, but he quickly shook his head and smiled. "You can just say if you don't want to do this, y'know-" he was cut off by himself, as his face dropped.

Tom started to scream, and frantically swim back to the shore. Oliver panicked. He started yelling at Tom, urging him to swim faster, to get back on land. 

Blood was starting to trail behind Tom as his fight to get back to land started to slow. As soon as Oliver saw this, he screamed. Tom's voice quietened until it was just him gasping back haughty breaths. Now Tom struggles to stay afloat. He was about 20 yards from the shore.

Oliver started running. He ran towards Tom, with no regard to the danger he was putting himself in. He kept tuning until his feet no longer touched the bottom of the lake, and kept going. He didn't stop until he had grabbed what remained of Tom's body. He felt nips and bites at his body and arms, but he didn't care. He pushed back and swam to shore.

Dragging Tom's body out of the water, he shook off piranhas that were still attached to their bodies.

Oliver pulled his legs to his chest and cried. He could feel intense pain radiating from his lower body, and he saw parts of his legs had been bitten off. Blood mixed with the lake water and his sweat, trailing down his legs to pool at his feet.

The sound of a grasping breath beside him knocked him back to his senses. He whipped his head round to face Tom and jumped into action.

Tom's legs were gone. In fact, most of his lower body had been bitten away. Smaller chunks of him were missing from his torso, and his guts spilled out, also ridden with bites. A few ribs poked through the carnage of his chest. His eyes were half open and blank.

Oliver threw up. He wiped his mouth and looked back at the mangled body next to him. Tom's face was untouched but for the blood that trickled out his mouth in a steady stream. His eyes stared straight ahead, and Oliver knew he was dead. He started sobbing again, ugly sounds wrenched from his chest as though they were trying to tear him apart. His boyfriend, the love of his life, his best friend, the reason he hadn't killed himself yet, was dead. 

Oliver reached for his boyfriend and pulled him to his chest. He hugged what was left of him to his body, The stench of blood and the dirty lake water overwhelmed his senses. He rocked back and forth, clutching the body of his lover close to his chest. He screamed and sobbed, hoping the nightmare would end.

He stayed there until the unforgiving sun rose up over the horizon, to remind Oliver of the tragedy that had occurred. He spat out a final curse before finally passing out from the blood loss.


	5. Get your toast out with a fork

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haha uh-oh
> 
> Shit man, it's been too long. I've been so caught up in everything, and a chain event of booked weekends pretty much prevented me from writing for about three weeks in a row. And from there, I just forgot to write. It fell out of my routine. 
> 
> I mean, I know no one actually reads this, (probably because it's a monstrosity that completely ruins a perfectly good children's cartoon) but it would be nice to be able to at least stick to my own schedule.
> 
> Also, I stubbed my toe getting a new mouse that wasn't broken while writing this and it hurts like hell

George sat down at his table with a sigh. Today had been one of those days. One of the days that seem to drag on forever, never changing, never allowing you to take a break to refresh yourself. Because George, well, he had the wonderful misfortune of working in an office, which included the lovely task of staring at his computer screen for the last gruelling 8 hours. Normally, this would be fine - it was his job after all, and you get used to doing certain things if you do them for long enough - but today had been so particularly dull and lifeless that the very lacklustre nature of the day had seeped into George's head, and all he could do when he finally dragged himself back home was fall onto the couch with a heavy sigh and stare at the blank wall. Finally, after what felt like hours of staring blankly, George listened to the persistent rumbling in his stomach and gathered up enough strength and resolution to get up from his space on the couch to amble over to the kitchen. Unsurprisingly, George wasn't really in the mood to make some 'real' dinner. Instead, he grabbed a tin of tomato soup from the cupboard and poured it into a pot. While he put that on to boil, he reached for a couple slices of bread to toast for his plain soup. There's nothing like a slice of plain food to go with your plain soup! George absentmindedly wondered why he was making such a boring meal when he could easily make something nicer, to brighten up his day - hell, he could even just boil some pasta and curry sauce as a meal with a bit more flavour. Instead, he was choosing to make his plain day even plainer. Sighing once more, George shoved the bread into the toaster and set it for 3 minutes - 3 minutes gave it the perfect golden to brown covering, and made it hot enough for the butter to melt into the toast, giving it a deliciously unhealthy taste. 

3 minutes later, and the toast had popped and the soup was boiling. George picked up the pot, and poured the contents into a bowl. He placed a spoon into the soup (carefully, you don't want to splash soup everywhe- oh damn it. There's soup on the table) and walked to the fridge to grab the butter. Walking back to the toaster, George noticed the toaster was finished, but the toast was still hidden in the toaster. George was momentarily taken aback, somehow jumping to the conclusion that his toast was gone - as if it had been taken by the mysterious toast thief - before peering into the toaster to see it wedged in the toaster. George shook the toaster, hoping to dislodge the pesky toast. But it was to no use. The toast remained lodged in there, taunting him from its perch of heat and sadness. George, at a loss for answers decided to reach in there with a fork. But, he was no idiot - he reached over to the switch in the wall and switched it off. 

Grabbing a fork from the drawer, George lined himself up with the toaster. Sticking a tongue out in concentration, he prepared his fork for this dangerous journey. Briefly, his mind flashed back to when he was little, maybe about seven. His mother had caught him almost jamming a knife into the toaster, and before he could hurt himself, she swept him away with a loud gasp. He had been scolded loudly for being so silly. Poor seven-year-old George was so confused, and cried his heart out, causing his mother to sigh and pull him into a bear hug before explaining to him that what he did was "very dangerous, you could've hurt yourself!". Later on, George noticed that the switch was off. Thank God the toaster hadn't been turned on, or else he wouldn't be standing here today. The toaster he was about to shove another fork into was actually the same one - he had taken it with him when he had left for college 5 years ago - and as such, it was incredibly old and battered. There were a few wires loose that George should probably get checked out, but it still did the job, and George couldn't bear to part with it after so long.

As soon as the fork touched the wires in the toaster, a loud zap of electricity surged through George. He immediately collapsed, dropping the fork as he went. He lay twitching on the ground for a good few minutes. But there was no mistaking the stench of an electrified corpse. George had been dead since he touched the broken wires in the toaster. The huge current that swept through had fried his brain instantly. He had turned off the wrong switch. 

It was only after four days of missing work and no contact from him that his body was eventually found. His coworker, after borrowing the keys from George's next door neighbour, had stepped into the apartment and was hit by the overwhelming stench of death. She had fearfully wandered through his apartment until she reached the kitchen, where she wasted no time in throwing up. She ran out of the house, and called 999. The paramedics arrived, and George was pronounced dead.

Cause of death: electrocution.


End file.
